


Written in Ink

by Hadespuppy



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, M/M, The Power of Journalism, The Santini family are dicks, author needs to be less wordy, safeish sex, this was supposed to be fluff, wear your rubbers kids, where did the this plot come from, whoops, with a side of porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-17 12:26:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15461337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hadespuppy/pseuds/Hadespuppy
Summary: When Barry agreed to accompany Iris to the rundown warehouse district so she could do research for a story on gentrification and shady land deals, he never expected he would end up on the radar of the dangerous Santini Family. Nor did he expect to meet a blue eyed tattoo artist with a sharp tongue and a wicked smile. The question now is, is getting closer to Len worth the danger it might bring?





	1. Meetings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RazzleyD](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RazzleyD/gifts).



> This is by far the longest thing I have ever written. I still have no idea where the plot came from, it certainly wasn't what I had intended to write.  
> Thanks Redbatty for the beta, any remaining errors are mine.

“Are you sure about this, Iris?” Barry asked as they rounded yet another corner in Central City’s run down former warehouse district.

“Yes. Someone will talk to us eventually, we just haven’t found the right person yet.”

“You don’t even have anyone willing to go on the record about gentrification, let alone shady land deals.”

Iris rolled her eyes, “say that last part a little louder why don’t you?”

Barry waved his hands in an expansive gesture at the nearly empty street. “Who’s going to hear?”

“Nobody. Maybe somebody. I don’t know what exactly is going on yet, which means I don’t know who I need to worry about hearing that I’m digging into it, but if the wrong person finds out, I’ll never find anything”

Barry smiled at the stubborn set to her jaw. She was his best friend and practically his sister, and he had learned long ago that that look meant it was better to just go along with whatever she wanted. It was certainly easier.

“Alright, not a word then,” he mimed zipping his mouth shut and throwing away the key, and she smiled fondly at him.

“Come on. We’ll finish this block and then we can go get lunch.”

Barry’s stomach growled at the prospect of food, and he quickened his pace slightly.

They passed a run down apartment building with columns on each side of the entrance that had once been white, and a lone one eared concrete lion at the bottom of the steps.  The next couple of buildings were blank and nondescript, with little to no indication what, if anything, they held inside.

Next was a bar whose neon sign proudly declared it ‘Saints and Sinners’. The brick front had plywood panels where two of the windows had once been, and the fact that they were nearly covered in layers of posters for different bands and events spoke to how long it had been since the windows were broken. Still, it looked to be fairly well frequented, but from the remaining darkened window they would have to come back later if they wanted to talk to anyone inside.

The last building on their side of the street was more promising. The painted sign read ‘Rogue’s Gallery’ in bright white letters, and painted gold scrollwork on the windows advertised hair and makeup on one side and tattoos on the other. Better yet, the sign on the front door proclaimed it to be open.

A small bell announced their entrance. Two men in leather jackets were on their way out. The taller of the two paused at the door to call over his shoulder.

“Think about it, Snart. The offer won’t be this good forever.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” drawled a dry voice from behind the counter. The man who had spoken was leaning back in his chair with his feet up on the desk, but he swung them down and straightened up as Barry and Iris approached.

“And what brings you fine folks in today?” he asked, giving them a once over that was just slow enough to make Barry slightly uncomfortable.

“Hi, Mr Snart was it?” The man nodded, and Iris continued, “I’m Iris West with the Citizen, and I’m doing a story about gentrification in Central City. It seems to be a bit slower in this area than say, the Port District, and I’m hoping to talk to local residents and business owners about their perspective on things and what you would like to see for the future here.”

Iris gave him her winningest reporter smile, the one that had people talking more often than not, although whether that was because it instilled trust, or because she could be absolutely relentless in pursuit of a story and they instinctively wanted to keep out of her way, Barry was never sure. It was honestly surprising how closed off the few people they had managed to talk to that day had been. Most had barely let her get past “with the Citizen” before waving her off or outright walking away.

“Don’t know how I can help you there. I’m just trying to run my shop. ‘Slong as people keep coming in looking for tattoos I don’t much pay attention to what’s going on in the neighbourhood”

“Well, can you tell me a bit more about your shop? How long have you— “

“Who’s here, Lenny, is that my appointment?”

A dark haired woman burst through one of the two doors on the back wall of the reception area with a click of heels that were incongruously high, given the stylist’s apron slung around her hips.

“Sorry, Lise. Ms West here is with the Citizen, and she’s doing a story on gentrification. I was just telling her I didn’t think we could help.” Something in the man’s tone made Barry think he was saying more than his words would indicate, and a whole conversation seemed to happen between him and the woman using just their eyes before she turned to Iris with a bright smile and a bounce of her curls.

“Nonsense. Tell you what, since my 11:00 has stood me up, If you let me give you a treatment, I’ll answer all the questions you can give me while I’ve got you in my chair. Name’s Lisa”

Iris’s eyes widened slighty.

“Oh, a facial treatment, honey,” Lisa said, taking Iris’s elbow and guiding her back into what was presumably the salon. “I had a black teacher in school and I learned just enough to know that I should leave hair like yours to the professionals. It’s lovely by the way.”

Iris threw an apologetic glance over her shoulder at Barry. Lunch was going to be a bit late, but he knew she’d do just about anything to get her story so he settled in to wait.

He looked back to the man behind the counter. He was looking at Barry in the same appraising way he had been earlier, and Barry shifted uncomfortably where he stood.

“Uh, I’m Barry,” he said finally, sticking out his hand.

“Len.”

Barry nearly jumped at the spark when their hands touched, pulling his own hand back inelegantly.

“Sorry, must be a lot of static in the air today” Len said smoothly. His eyes were dancing, and Barry couldn’t tell if he was being laughed at or not.

“Are you the tattoo artist then?” he asked, for lack of anything else to say.

“Yes. That was Lisa, my sister. She takes care of the salon, and I do the more long term beautification. I don’t suppose I could interest you in some art while you wait for Lisa to let your girlfriend go?”

“Oh, Iris isn’t my girlfriend,” Barry answered automatically. “We grew up together. And I never really thought about getting a tattoo. Seems kind of permanent.”

Len snorted “That would be rather the point, yes.”

Now Barry was sure he was being laughed at.

“How would I even know what to get? You don’t have anything to choose from.” Barry looked around at the walls, which were decorated with art all in the same precise, geometric style, some with splashes of colour, but nothing that obviously said tattoos.

“I mostly do custom work, so I don’t keep a a lot of flash around. What I do have is in the binders with my portfolio work.” He indicated a bookshelf to his left that held several black leather binders, alongside various art books and assorted decorative knicknacks.

“Flash?” Barry asked.

“Now I know you’re a virgin.”

Barry knew he meant in the tattoo sense, but he blushed anyway.

“Flash is pre-drawn art. They type of stuff you usually see in big posters on the wall so people can pick out their heart with a dagger through it, or generic dragon or whatever. Or anything the artist draws up without a specific customer in mind, which is what most of mine is.”

“Isn’t that easier though? People can see exactly what the finished piece is going to look like if you’ve already drawn it, and you don’t have to draw something they might not like”

“Well Barry, that’s where the real art comes in. Anyone can practice enough to develop the technical skills, but true artistry is about creating the perfect design for the person, and fitting it exactly to their body”

“But how do they know that you know them well enough to know what they want. What if they aren’t sure?”

“I never do a tattoo the client isn’t sure about. And as for the rest, they just have to trust me. It usually works out fine”

“Oh. Can I take a look?”

Len waved magnanimously at the bookshelf, and Barry pulled one of the binders down.

“I have some work to do, feel free to take a seat, I’m sure the ladies won’t be done for a while yet.”

Barry nodded mutely, already absorbed in the portfolio, and flopped down onto the indicated squashy leather couch, dropping his jacket beside him. Most of the pictures were of finished tattoos, largely in the same style as the artwork that adorned the walls, but there were also some realistic animals and a few that Barry recognised as traditional tattoo styles. It was fascinating what people had adorned their bodies with, from abstract pieces to interpretations of objects or animals, or even pop culture symbols.

As he flipped through the book, Len disappeared and reappeared through the door on the opposite side of the back wall from where Iris and Lisa had gone. He went back and forth a few times before settling back in his chair behind the counter and turning to an angled art desk to sketch. Having reached the end of the book in his hands, Barry opened it to a random page and began to surreptitiously watch the man work.

He didn’t look exactly like what Barry pictured when he thought of a tattoo artist. For one, he had few visible tattoos, although the pushed up sleeve of his black v-neck sweater revealed the silhouettes of trees on one forearm, and there was something that might have been a snowflake on the back of his other hand. He did have gauged earlobes, although not hugely so, that were stretched around dark blue metal plugs, and he had a smooth silver ring snug around the centre of his lower lip. His short cropped hair was definitely leaning towards salt and pepper, but his face was smooth, giving him an ageless effect. His sweater and dark grey pants were simple and well fitting, and he could have blended in just as easily in an office as any ‘alternative’ crowd.

Barry found himself especially fascinated by Len’s hands. He couldn’t see what he was working on from this angle, but he could see the way his long fingers moved over the paper, holding his pens in a precise grip as they moved in confident strokes or spreading wide to hold the paper steady while he worked on small details. He was absolutely focused on his work, and Barry wondered idly what it might be like to be the object of such focus.

“See anything you like?”

Barry looked up from the elegant hands as if caught peeking where he shouldn’t. Len hadn’t even glanced up from his drawing. He finished one last line along a straightedge, and turned to meet Barry’s gaze. His eyes were clear blue, and filled with laughter. Barry could feel the blush creeping up his cheeks. He never blushed this much - well, that wasn’t exactly true. He blushed easily and often, and it was a source of never-ending embarrassment, but not usually with someone he had just met!

“In the book. Anything catch your eye?” Butter would not melt in the man’s mouth, and Barry flipped to a random page.  

“This one?” He held up the book, showing a drawing of a dotwork whale with a small house on its back.

“Try harder, Flash-boy. You’d hate that within a year, and then you either need lasers or a coverup.”

“How do you know? I could be very into— ” he glanced at the picture “house-whales.”

Len just raised one eyebrow at him.

“--Ok, yeah, that was a bad example. I do like the picture though.”

Len leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers together over his chest. “Tell me something about yourself, and I’ll tell you which flash would be good for you, since you’re so opposed to custom work.”

“Umm, I don’t know. What do you want to know?”

Something odd passed behind Len’s eyes. “Why don’t you start with the basics. What do you do?”

“Oh, umm, I’m a science educator at the museum. I teach kids about science, and help develop some of the interactive programs for kids and adults. I haven’t been doing it long, but it’s a lot of fun.”

“And in your spare time you accompany intrepid reporters to bad neighbourhoods to sniff out stories?”

Barry laughed. “Iris isn’t afraid of anything. She’s practically my sister, and she owes me lunch.” In truth, Iris had been a little nervous about digging for the truth about the land deals she had uncovered, but she would have gone regardless if Barry hadn’t offered to go with her, but Len didn’t need to know that.

“Ok, I’ll give you that. Try the second book from the left, page 45.”

Barry got up to pull out the correct book and flip to the page. He immediately recognised it as a drawing of Nicola Tesla’s Wardenclyffe Tower, again in dotwork. Bolts of negative space suggested lightning emanating from the top of the tower.

“Oh, this is cool,” Barry said, admiring how Len had used the dots to suggest shading and create the perfectly straight lines of the tower without actually including a single drawn line.

“See, better already. I’d put that on your upper arm. It’s still not the perfect piece though.”

“And how do you— ?”

‘’Trust, flash-boy. You just have to trust me I won’t lead you astray - much.”

Barry was trying to figure out how to respond to that, both to the odd nickname and whatever double meaning Len seemed to be implying with his words, when Iris emerged from the salon. She looked pretty much the same as she had when she went in, maybe her makeup was a bit different, but she was smiling broadly as she took his arm.

“Come on, Barry, let’s get lunch, I’m starving.” She turned to Len “Thanks for letting him hang out.”

Len gave her a charming smile. “Barry is welcome any time. If only you had taken a bit longer, I just might have gotten my hands on him”

Iris gave Barry a questioning glance, but when neither man cared to elaborate on Len’s words, she continued out the door, taking Barry with her. As soon as the door shut behind them, she turned to Barry and started telling him everything she had found out from Lisa. Apparently the woman was quite passionate about improving the neighbourhood without pushing out the people who called it home, and had definite ideas about how that could be done.

Lisa had also alluded to, but not confirmed, or even talked directly about, the land deal Iris was really investigating. She had said that the project was eventually going to be a state of the art studio for recording and visual artists, with all the latest technology available for them to work with. It would, however require demolishing an abandoned apartment building and a mostly vacant lot, both of which housed a number of squatters and other itinerant people.

“Where are they supposed to go? Some of them have been there for years.” Her eyes were shining as she outlined her plan to visit the site a few blocks over to see if any of the residents would talk to her. “Lisa knows more that she would say, but I’m sure the mob is involved somehow. Maybe the Santinis or the Darbynians. I’ll have to ask Marco tomorrow. He did a story on organized crime last year; he’ll probably know who controls this area.”

Barry smiled indulgently at her enthusiasm. “What happened to not talking about that in public?”

Iris clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oops. I’m just so excited. Lisa was great. And she gave me a few leads on some other sources who might talk. We need to come back to that bar on Friday. She said it’s usually packed, so there has to be somebody there who will help”

“Ok, fine. But can we get lunch first, I’m wasting away here.”

As they walked back to their car, Barry tried to ignore the flip flop of his stomach at the thought that Len might also go to the neighbourhood bar on a Friday night.

It wasn’t until they got to the cafe that he realised he had left his jacket at the shop, and would need to go back even sooner than that.


	2. Designs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry goes back to the shop to get his jacket, and gets way more than he bargained for.

It was Wednesday before Barry made it back to Rogue’s Gallery, and he definitely hadn’t spent an hour the night before scrolling through the shop’s Facebook and Instagram pages under the excuse of ‘checking to see if they would still be open when he got off work.’

It was odd, he had never even considered tattoos before, other than admiring the particularly beautiful or cringing at the especially terrible when he happened to notice them. And he had barely had a conversation with the man at the shop - Len, his brain supplied - but something about the whole encounter had him fascinated. He couldn’t stop thinking about what it might be like to choose something to permanently mark his skin with, and about long dexterous fingers and piercing blue eyes that sparkled with laughter.

The walk from the bus stop took him past the shuttered building that was the centre of Iris’s story. The heavy front doors had been chained shut at some point, but the chain was dangling from one door handle. Most of the windows were either boarded up or broken, but there were signs of life in the form of laundry hanging from the rusting fire escape.

In the lot next door, it was impossible to tell what was supposed to be there and what was makeshift shelters built out of tarps and other scavenged materials. It wasn’t exactly cozy or welcoming, but he supposed Iris was right. People wouldn’t live there if they had anywhere else to go. And if there was something shady going on, she would find it.

Approaching from the other side of the shop, Barry could see that there was a huge mural painted along the side of the building. It was a woodsy winter scene, done in that same geometric, somewhat abstract style that he was starting to recognise as Len’s. The trees faded into huge colourful snowflake shapes like something out of an Escher print. Unfortunately, someone had splashed red paint across the wall, ruining the mural.

When he entered the shop, neither Len nor his sister were in the reception area. They were still open for another 45 minutes, so Barry knew one of them would be out soon enough. His jacket wasn’t in evidence anywhere, so he stood by the bookshelf, examining its contents while he waited. He was just flipping through the binder with the Tesla tattoo when Lisa poked her head out of the salon area.

“Can I help— Oh, it’s you!” Barry barely had time to respond before she had made her way to the other door and swung it open. “Lenny, that cutie-pie from Monday is back for his jacket.”

She turned back to Barry with a wink and disappeared back into her salon before Barry could even register what she had said, leaving him standing with his mouth slightly open, staring at the closed door where she had just been.

“Lisa has that effect on a lot of people,” Len’s drawling voice from the door to his studio startled Barry, and he turned back with a snap.

Len was leaning casually against the doorframe, the pose emphasising his long frame. He was dressed similarly to before, in slim black pants, chunky boots, and a fine knit sweater, but his pants had interestingly angular seaming and zippered pocket details, and his sweater was a dark blue mock turtleneck. The overall effect gave him a slightly dangerous vibe, but Barry felt no urge to get away.

Realizing he had been staring, Barry stumbled over his next words. “Yeah, uh, she’s something. So, um, my jacket?”

“Sure thing, Flash-boy. First tell me something you like,” Len replied, indicating the book in Barry’s hands.

“They’re all great. I was actually looking to see if you had anything like the mural outside, with the snowflakes? It’s too bad it got ruined. Was it kids from the area?” Barry shut his mouth before he could ramble any further. What was it about this man that had him acting like an awkward teenager?  

Something dark passed over Len’s face, and his eyes grew cold, but it was gone as soon as it came. “Something like that.”

He levered himself off of the wall and came over to stand close to Barry, flipping the pages of the book he still held in his hands. This close, Barry could feel the warm bulk of him. They were about the same height, but Len was broader through the chest and shoulders, still lean but not as lanky.

“I try not to do the same thing twice, but this one here has a few similar elements.” he said when he found the page he was looking for. It was, as with all his pieces, gorgeous; a full back piece with snowflakes, this time in black and white, drifting over the woman’s shoulder and fading into nothing. Before Barry could express his admiration, the bell at the door tinkled and two men walked in. Barry thought he recognised one of them from his previous visit, and he could sense the way Len tensed as soon as he saw them.

“I’m with a client,” he said flatly. His eyes had gone narrow and hard.

The man Barry thought he recognised raised his hands in a placating gesture.

“No need to lose your cool, Snart. We won’t be a minute”

“Just here to deliver something for Mr. S— For the boss” chimed in the other man, correcting whatever he had been about to say at a swift elbow from the first.

“Don’t worry, I’m staying nice and frosty here.” Len answered. Barry thought he caught Len glancing sideways at him at the man’s words, but he feigned a deep interest in the book in his hands. Whatever was going on, he had a sense he did not want to get caught in the middle.  

“Well?” Len said impatiently, holding out his hand for the supposed gift. The first man handed over a small box wrapped with a black ribbon, which Len took and tossed unceremoniously onto the counter behind him.

“My answer won’t change.”

“We’ll see, Snart.” replied the man, and with a short nod, both men turned and left the shop.

Barry exhaled a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. He turned to Len, who was now leaning on the counter, toying with the box between his hands.

“Are you going to open it?”

Len startled and looked up at Barry like he had forgotten he was there. He seemed to think for a moment, then pulled the ribbon and popped the lid off the box. A silver lighter gleamed inside. It was engraved with something that Barry thought might be the shop’s logo. Barry looked questioningly at Len and was taken aback at the black expression on his face. There was no laughter in those eyes now, and for the first time Barry got the sense that Len might not be a nice or safe man.

Len pocketed the lighter and turned to Barry “I need a drink,” he said, smiling. “Tell you what; I’ll give you your jacket back if you join me.”

Barry practically felt whiplash from the sudden change in tone, but he couldn’t help but respond to the flirtatious offer. “Only if you’re buying.”  

Len’s smile grew sharklike. “Oh, I think the pleasure of your company is something I could afford to invest in.” While Barry was trying to decide how to interpret that, he went over to the salon and knocked on the door. “Headed over to Mick’s, if anyone comes in for me tell them I’ll call back tomorrow.”

With that he turned back to Barry and gestured for him to lead the way out the door. Once out on the street, Barry turned towards the bar next door, but stopped when he saw the shuttered door.

“Don’t worry, Mick’ll be there,” Len said, and reached up to where a doorbell was hidden high on the wall. A few moments later the door opened, and a burly man with a shaved head appeared.

“Whaddya, oh, it’s you,” the man growled. “C’mon in.”

Barry followed Len into the bar. Even with the lights on it was dark and dingy, with the kind of ancient tiled floors that would never not be slightly sticky, and islands of round tables surrounded by metal-and-cracked-vinyl chairs. A small stage took up one corner, with a tiny dance floor in front of it, marked mostly by the disco ball hanging over the middle. The wood bar top, however, gleamed, and the rows of bottles behind it promised good times for whoever ventured in.

Len reached behind the bar to snag a couple of glasses and a bottle of amber liquid, prompting a gruff “Hey” from the man Barry presumed to be Mick. This was confirmed a moment later when Len waved the bottle in his direction and then at the other man.

“Barry, Mick,” he said. “It’s a bourbon kind of night. You joining us?” Mick shook his head, and Len led Barry to a table in the corner. Barry had barely sat down before Len had poured him a generous two fingers and slid the drink over. Barry took it, but didn’t drink. He wasn’t much of a drinker, and he already felt off balance just being near Len. Len poured one for himself, drained it, then refilled his glass. He was silent for a moment, staring into the bottom of his drink, then seemed to notice Barry looking around the bar.

“Not quite like the places on the good side of the tracks is it? Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe.” His teasing tone was light, taking any sting out of his words, but Barry flashed back to the moment at the shop when Len had opened the box. He wasn’t certain he _was_ safe. Looking back at Len, he wasn’t entirely certain he wanted to be.

“Have you known Mick long?” he asked. “He seems-” he trailed off, unsure of how to finish that sentence without insulting either man.

“Mick’s an asshole who’ll punt you into next week if he thinks you’ve looked at him wrong.” Len said. “He’s also a great bartender and a better friend. He’s saved me from trouble more than once. He’s also one of the only places that Santini, well, that doesn’t matter.”

As if summoned by the mention of his name, Mick appeared. For someone so large, Barry wasn’t sure how he hadn’t seen him coming. He offered a glass with a few ice cubes in it.

“Len forgets that not everyone drinks their liquor straight up,” he said. “That Woodford Oaked is about as smooth as you can get, but it’s still bourbon; ice’ll help if you aren’t used to it.” Barry nodded in thanks and dropped the ice into his glass. He took a small sip and felt the slight burn as he swallowed. Mick was right, it was good, but he could tell he would want to drink it slowly.

Mick was just turning away to continue his work getting the bar ready for the evening when Len called him back.

“Hey, Joe’n’Rico stopped by to give me this from their boss,” he said, fishing in one of his many pockets, “figured you might like it more.” Having found his prize, he tossed the lighter over. Mick caught it one handed and turned it over in his fingers. His eyes lit up when he saw what it was, but narrowed when he recognised the engraving.

“You know they won’t stop.”

Len sighed. “I know. I just need to remind them that there are consequences if they keep pushing it.”

Mick grunted. “And if they don’t listen?”

“I’ll be fine, Mick.” His tone had an air of finality, and Mick just pocketed the lighter and walked away from the table.

Barry looked down at his drink, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. He had heard enough that day, and put together with what both he and Iris had heard the other day, it made the beginnings of a picture he didn’t much like. He just wasn’t sure if it was any of his business. He didn't really know Len, and he had absolutely no experience with the kind of trouble the man seemed to be in. But if the Santinis were the ones causing that trouble, he had to be on the right side, right?

Len broke the silence. “I'll give you one question, and then I don't want to talk about it.”

Barry looked up at him. He hadn't expected Len to be willing to answer any questions, let alone offering to do so, even if it was only one. He thought for a moment.

“The lighter was a threat. And the paint.” Len inclined his head, so he continued. “They want you to sell. Or else”

“Got it in one,” Len replied bitterly, taking a swallow of his drink. “They've got _plans_ for the neighbourhood, and those plans don't include me.”

“You used to have something on them, didn't you? Some kind of leverage. Only it isn't working anymore.”

Len gave him a shrewd look. “Perceptive. I had, shall we say, some inside information about their operations. But when little sister showed up needing some help and a fresh start, I decided to go straight.” He gave Barry a sideways glance.

“Well, maybe not straight, but I went legit. Made a deal that I'd keep my mouth shut if they left me alone. Kept them from coming ‘round for protection money. But now Santini’s decided he doesn't just want to control the neighbourhood, he needs to own it.”

Barry opened his mouth, but Len cut him off. “You got your question, and more information than I probably should have given you. Consider it dropped, or I might start to think you only came down here to do some of Ms. West’s dirty work.”

Barry hadn't even thought about telling Iris, but now he knew he had to share what he had learned. She might not be able to use it directly, but it would probably help her put some of the pieces together.

“OK. Thank you for telling me what you did. I promise I won't tell anyone.”

Len gave him a Look.

“I won't tell anyone except Iris. But if I ask her not to use anything that can be traced back to you, she won't, I swear.” Barry crossed his heart in a reflexive motion from when he and Iris had been kids telling each other their secrets.

Len smiled at the childish gesture. “I suppose that will have to do. Although I do think she would be better to leave well enough alone and write stories about safer subjects.”

Barry laughed, “Do you want to be the one to tell her that? Because I don't”

“She sounds like Lisa. She'll skin you alive for telling her not to do something, and then go and do it anyway, usually twice as hard just to prove a point.”

“Yup, that's her exactly.”

Len shook his head. “We never should have let them meet.”

Barry smiled and took a sip of his drink. “True that. Probably best we just stay out of their way.”

Len’s grin turned to more of a leer. “I can think of a few ways we can keep ourselves occupied, Flash-boy” he said, running his eyes over Barry’s form in much the same way he had the day they met. This time Barry felt less uncomfortable and more something he wasn’t quite ready to acknowledge yet. Heat coiled low in his spine anyway and a blush crawled up his neck to his cheeks.

“Why do you always call me that?” Barry grumbled, trying to deflect Len’s obvious innuendo.

“Would you prefer I call you something else?” Len leaned close and waved his fingers at Barry, indicating his flushed appearance. “How about Scarlet?”

Barry blushed even deeper. “‘m not sure that’s better.”

‘Too bad, I think it’s rather fetching,” Len purred.

Barry was saved from having to formulate a response by the appearance of a tall, dark haired man with an earnest smile.

“Hiya, Len, Mick told me you were here. I’m just about to head home, but I can make you something first, are you and your, er, friend hungry?”

“Barry, meet Ray, Mick’s fiancé, although none of us are quite sure what he sees in him.” Ray opened his mouth, whether to defend Mick or himself wasn’t clear, but Len cut him off, “Ray’s a real genius in the kitchen, runs one of those fancy brunch places downtown. I’d take him up on his offer if I were you, and I’m not just saying that ‘cause I want you to stick around.”

Barry thought of the exciting evening of housework and Netflix he’d had planned. He really did need to get it done, but the rumble in his stomach at the mention of food decided for him, and one look at Len confirmed it. He wasn’t quite sure yet how he felt about the man, and the danger he brought with him, but a little more time spent together couldn’t hurt, right?

“Sounds great,” he said brightly.

“Any requests?” Ray asked, turning his eager grin to Barry.

“Whatever you’re making. I’ll eat just about anything that’s put in front of me.”

“Will you now,” Len drawled.

Ray sputtered. “I, I’ll just go - do that then.”

Barry watched him go.

“ _He’s_ with Mick?” he asked. He barely knew either man, but they seemed about as opposite as two people could get.

“Like I said, no one is quite sure how or why, but they make it work somehow.”

“Huh.”

 They sat in comfortable silence for a while. At some point Mick had turned down the lights and unlocked the door, and a few barflies had wandered in and taken up what Barry thought were probably their regular spots. A dark-haired man was working on the stage, setting up what turned out to be a removable stripper pole. Barry looked away as soon as he realised but couldn’t help himself from looking around to see if he could spot the dancer who would be using it. He’d never seen anything remotely resembling exotic dancing before, and he wasn’t sure if the prospect made him excited or vaguely uncomfortable. He glanced over at Len, who was watching him with a knowing look in his eyes.

“It’s your lucky night, Scarlet,” he said, seemingly not bothered at all to have been caught basically staring at Barry, “Second Wednesday of the month is ladies’ night. Mick likes to provide equal opportunity entertainment.”

Barry looked to the stage, where the dark-haired man had been joined by a younger black man, who seemed to be helping him adjust the lights, then back at Len, questions in his eyes.

“Nate there’s not bad, if you like that sort of thing. Calls himself Steel. Sometimes he paints himself silver, and yes, it goes all the way down. But Jax is the one you really want to watch. He goes by Firestorm, and he has a real flare for showmanship.”

Barry groaned at the pun. “That was terrible.”

“What can I say,” Len responded, waving his hand in mock innocence, “I never miss the opportunity for a good _pun_ chline.”

This time Barry just rolled his eyes and finished off his drink with a deep swallow.

“If you’re going to do that all night, I’m going to need another drink” he declared, and slid his glass towards Len.

“Your wish is my command,” Len replied, and refilled the glass with a dramatic flourish, adding as he passed it back, “especially if it means you’ll be staying all night.”

His grin was wicked, and Barry could feel himself blushing _again._ “Is that what you go for then?” he asked, indicating the two men on the stage.

“They’re fine to look at, but I prefer someone who keeps me on my toes. Been a bit of a cold spell in that department, but I’m starting to think there might be a spark or two on the horizon.” He ran a long finger over the rim of his glass and eyed Barry through his lashes. “And what about you? What sort of company does a fine upstanding man like you keep? Is there a pretty blonde with a bouncing ponytail waiting at home?”

Barry immediately thought of his last serious girlfriend, way back in college. What a disaster that had been.

“I did, once. Kara. It should have been perfect. Everything I’m supposed to want.”

“Not quite the fairy tale ending you were looking for?”

Barry shook his head, “Not at all. In the end it was like we were from two different worlds. And then there was Oliver.”

“Oliver?” Len asked, his voice neutral.

Barry groaned and leaned back in his chair. “A bad idea I met at a bar. Sort of the last nail in that particular coffin.” He thought briefly of blue-green eyes and muscular shoulders. “Might have been worth it though,” he added almost wistfully.

His musings were interrupted by the arrival of their food. At first glance it was a basic burger and fries, but Ray quickly explained how he had made the patty himself from prime rib trimmings mixed with roasted bone marrow and topped it with a fried egg, and that the thick cut fries were served with truffle aioli. Barry’s eyes widened. It sounded like something that would be served in a high-end restaurant, not a dive bar like this.

Ray seemed to be waiting anxiously for them to try it, so he picked up the burger and took a big bite. Len had not been lying, Ray was a genius. It was probably the best burger he had ever tasted, good enough that he didn’t mind the juices running down his fingers. He nodded happily at Ray and gave him an awkward thumbs-up, trying not to put the burger down for fear of making even more of a mess. Ray’s whole face lit up at his approval, like a small child who just won a ribbon.

Len hadn’t yet touched his food; he was watching Barry again, who was not at all embarrassed at the appreciative noises he made as he took a second bite. “If that’s what you sound like when you have good food, I can only imagine how you sound when you—”

“Len!” Ray exclaimed. Len just gave him a look, and Ray seemed to find a pressing need to be elsewhere. “I’m glad you like it. Nice meeting you Barry, seeya, Len,” he said rapidly, and was gone.

Barry barely noticed him go, he was too focussed on his food. Before he knew it, he was finishing the last bite of the burger and contemplating licking the juices from his hands.

“Want some help with that?” Len asked, breaking his reverie.

Barry glanced down at his hands, shiny with fat, and the possibilities swirled in his brain. “No, uh, I’ll just go clean up,” he stammered, nearly tripping over his chair as he hurried to get up without touching anything.

When he returned, Len was well into his own burger. His eyes were closed as he savoured the meal, his dark lashes brushing against his cheeks, and Barry took the opportunity to just enjoy looking at the man. He really was stunning. The silver in his hair somehow didn’t age him at all. His long fingers, currently wrapped around the last remains of his burger, seemed to always be in motion, touching objects around him or weaving patterns in the air as he spoke. What Barry could see of his tattoos were well done, and although different styles, worked together somehow. Barry wanted to know the stories behind them. Wanted to know what they meant to the man who wore them. Wanted to trace them up past the pushed-up sleeves of his sweater to find what was hiding underneath.

He watched Len’s hands, fascinated as he finished his burger and, unlike Barry, slowly licked each of his fingers clean. Barry licked his lips when he saw the tip of Len’s tongue flicker between his fingers.

“Good to the last drop, isn’t it?” Len purred, and Barry raised his gaze to meet blue eyes, dancing with laughter, and promise.

“Delicious,” Barry responded, a little breathlessly, then broke the moment by immediately looking away. “So how long have you known Mick and Ray?”

Len’s eyes flashed with amusement, but he allowed the deflection, and launched into a convoluted story about how he and Mick had met that Barry was sure had to be half exaggeration. Barry followed that with a story about late-night shenanigans he and his best friend Cisco had pulled on the director of the museum featuring the ancient planetarium projector and a “ghost” that had wandered over from one of the supposedly haunted exhibits.

They traded stories and talked about everything and nothing. Barry eventually shifted closer to Len, both so they could hear one another over the music, and so he could see the show going on on the stage, while Len told him stories about the dancers and the more outlandish exploits of some of the regulars around the bar. Len continued to pun and flirt outrageously, which Barry alternately returned in kind when he felt bold, and deflected when it got to be a bit much. He kept teasing Barry about being from the right side of the tracks, and telling him not be shocked when something was different, or new to the younger man.

It was true, Barry’s experience with bars and clubs was mostly limited to a few sports bars and pubs, the one memorable experience at a dance club where he had met Ollie, and Karaoke every now and then. Saints and Sinners was unlike any of that, and the clientele certainly more eclectic. But somehow, even with the sticky floors and graffitied bathrooms, the bikers in the corner and the drag queen with towering hair up by the stage, it felt almost as comfortable as it did exciting. He wasn’t sure how he fit in, but he wanted to.

Before he knew it, Jax was waving to the crowd and giving his final bow, a tiny scrap of cloth his only concession to modesty. The queen in the front row called out something that Barry didn’t quite catch, but made Jax blush, so must have been raunchy as anything. Barry was suddenly aware of how close he and Len were sitting. They were practically touching at knee and elbow, and Barry could sense how little movement it would take to press himself all the way into Len’s space. His head swam in a not unpleasant way as he looked anywhere but at Len. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to happen next. He pulled out his phone to give himself time to think. His brain was moving a bit slowly for some reason.

12:17

Shit.

“I gotta go,” he said, looking at Len with wide eyes, “the last bus is at 12:30.”

“Slow down, Flash,” Len said, and Barry only winced a little at the return of the nickname. “You’ll make it, and if not, we can go back to the shop and call you a cab.”

“We?” Barry asked.

“Normally I’d say you’d be fine. It’s only a few blocks and the neighbourhood isn’t as bad as some people might think. But you’ve been seen with me, and I’m not exactly popular with a certain family right now.” He unfolded himself from the table and waited for Barry to follow, waving him off when Barry reached for his wallet. “Don’t worry about it, c’mon let’s get you home.”

The night air was cool and the city quiet after being in the bar for so long. Barry could feel his head clearing as they walked. He wasn’t quite sure how many times Len had refilled his glass, but it was enough that he was definitely going to be feeling it tomorrow.

“Do you really think they’ll do something?” he asked quietly. “The S— the family?”

Len clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about me kid, I’ll be fine. Been in worse scrapes than this before.”

Barry just nodded. He wanted to help, to do something, but mob stuff? That was so outside his expertise he didn’t even know where to start. They got to the bus stop just as the bus arrived, so Barry was spared any awkward fumbling for an appropriate goodbye. Instead he just called his farewell over his shoulder as he climbed aboard. He took his seat and shivered. The bus wasn’t much warmer than the night air had been, and he still hadn’t gotten his coat back.

 


	3. Consultation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The details start to take shape.

Barry woke from a rather pleasant dream in which Len painted swirling designs on his skin to a decidedly less pleasant headache. Luckily his drunk self from the night before had been kind enough to put a glass of water and a couple of aspirin on the nightstand for him. He downed them quickly, then flopped back into his pillow with a groan. Why had he let Len keep filling his glass? Because he had pretty eyes and a wicked smile? That wasn’t like him.

A flashing light to his left burned through Barry’s eyelids. He reached for his phone and winced as the screen flared to full brightness. He squinted. He had 17 text messages, three Facebook messages and a missed phone call from Iris. He racked his brain, trying to think if they had had plans he had forgotten, but no, he really had intended to go home and do laundry.

His phone buzzed in his hand, and Iris’s picture appeared on the screen. Whatever it was, she obviously wasn’t giving up. He swiped to accept the call.

“H’lo?” he mumbled.

“Barry! Finally, you answer, where were you last night?” Barry pulled the phone further away from his head in pain at the excited tone of her voice.

“Went out. Why’re you so loud?” he groused.

Iris immediately sounded concerned, but she did lower her voice. “You went out, where? Are you ok?”

“I’m fine,” he answered, “I went to get my jacket back from Len. We ended up having a few drinks.”

“Sounds like it was more than a few,” she said, with some amusement. “Do you think you can drag yourself out of bed and meet me for lunch before you go to work? I found out some things about the land deals in the warehouse district and I wanted to bounce some ideas off you”

Barry looked at the clock. He had a few hours to get back to feeling somewhat human before he’d have to meet her. “Sure. Jitters at 12? I found out a few things too.”

“I bet you did,” Iris answered, laughing as she hung up.

Barry dropped his phone on his chest. He should probably eat something and take a shower, but he was just going to lay here a little bit longer.

***

Barry was late getting to Jitters, as usual. He had fallen asleep after their phone conversation, and had to rush his way through a shower before running to catch the train downtown to meet Iris. He found her sitting at a table by the window with her laptop, a steaming cup of coffee close at hand. She waved off his apology as he sat down.

“I figured you’d be late,” she said, “I ordered you a sandwich and the biggest coffee they have.”

Barry grinned. “Thanks. So, what did you find out?”

“You first. I want to hear how you ended up spending the night with the tattoo artist.”

Barry blushed. “I did not spend the night. We had drinks. At the bar by his shop, that’s all.”

Iris’s eyes were shining. “I’m not sure which I want to hear more. How you, Barry Allen, ended up at a sketchy bar like that with someone you’ve barely met, or what you learned that has to do with my story.”

“Well, the two are kinda related,” Barry ran a hand through his hair and looked at Iris through lowered eyes. “But you have to promise me you won’t use it in any way that the source can be identified. I don’t want to put him in danger.”

“Danger? Barry, what are you talking about?”

Barry explained what had happened with the two men threatening Len, and what the man had told him his past and how he kept the Santinis off his back. He added a few speculations he had from things Len had said during their long conversation that would probably have been innocent on their own, but put together with the rest, told a story about how the Santinis kept a stranglehold on the neighbourhood. He did not mention the strippers, or the way his stomach flipped when he met Len’s eyes.

Iris obviously had questions about what was going on between him and Len, but the prospect of her story finally taking shape was too much, so she let it go for now. Barry knew he wouldn’t get off so easy next time.

“That’s amazing Barry, it fits perfectly with the rest of what I found. I know just how I can use it,” Barry must’ve looked anxious, because she slowed her gushing, “without divulging anything that’ll put the source in danger.”

“So, are you going to tell me, or do I have to wait to read it like everyone else?” Barry asked, smiling over his coffee cup.

“I had a thought that I should ask Felicity if they had had anything similar happen in Star City. Now that she’s married to the mayor and they’re trying to clean things up, they must’ve come across all kinds of shady business. She suggested I take a look at a data dump from some “ethical hacker” group called Helix. They released it a year or so, but other than a few high-profile items, it never got a huge amount of press.”

“What did you find?” This was all starting to sound like the plot of some cheesy tv show, but Iris wouldn’t lie to him, and maybe her story could help Len.

“Emails from a city councillor approving the sale of the vacant lot from city holdings to a numbered company for a dollar, and making the zoning changes the same day, without going through the proper zoning board. I did some more digging in the public records office, and I think I can just about trace the company that bought the lot back to a business owned by one of the Santini brothers. I haven’t figured out why though.”

“What about the building, where all those people lived?” Barry asked.

“That was owned by the same family since the fifties. The original owner passed away, leaving the building, and a bunch of unpaid taxes to his son, who was also unable to pay, so when he died it went to his wife. She sold it for the price of the unpaid taxes to a different unnamed company that also traces back to the Santinis. There’s similar stories all over the area. They’re quietly buying up land and because it’s all different companies and holdings, no one’s noticed.”

“What do you think they’re doing with it all?”

“This Cyber-whatever is the first big project, but I bet there are more coming. If they can do some big splashy announcements, and make it look like the neighbourhood is going to be the next waterfront? People will want to be the first to have a business down there, and the Santinis will be all of their landlords. Plus, the city loves funding “area rehabilitation projects” that make them look good without addressing any of the real issues that people already living in those areas have.”

“So, do you think you have enough for a story? There’s still a lot of speculation in that”

“I’m almost there. I still want to talk to some of the locals, get the human-interest side of things, and maybe they can help fill in the gaps. Do you think that Mick person might talk to me?”  

Barry conjured up an image of Iris peppering the huge man with questions. “Mick doesn’t really--talk,” he answered, finally, “but maybe if we catch Ray before he leaves. He seemed pretty chatty.”

“Does that mean you’ll come with me tomorrow night?” Iris asked eyes shining with mischief.

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

“And of course that has nothing to do with it being right next door to a certain attractive tattoo artist, who happens to be good friends with the bartender, does it?”

Barry sputtered, but knew his denials were in vain. He was a terrible liar, especially with Iris.

“So, spill. Tell me all about this guy. I need to decide if he’s a bad influence on you or a good one.”

Barry looked at the clock, hoping for another reprieve, but she cut him off.

“Don’t even try it. I know you have at least half an hour before you need to head to work, and the museum is only two blocks away.”

Barry rubbed a hand over the back of his neck while he thought. “I don’t know, he’s just, Len,” he settled on. “He’s gorgeous, and smart. He makes the most ridiculous puns. And he has such a different way of looking at the world, it’s fascinating.  And I’m pretty sure he’s into me.”

Iris snorted. “Barry, even if you hadn’t told me that he spent half the night plying you with bourbon, I still could have told you that. I saw the way he looked at you on Monday.”

“Maybe. But Iris, he’s also. He used to work for them. For the Santinis. And even though he got out, he stuck around. He could have gone anywhere, but he stayed. And now he’s basically blackmailing them. What kind of a person does that? I know he’s got a record, I didn’t ask for what. Just, do I really want to get involved with someone like that?”

“After your last experience with a bad boy, I don’t blame you,” Iris said, ‘But Barr, what does your gut say?”

“I think. He left the family for a reason, right? Whatever he might have done, whatever his methods might be, he’s putting that behind him.” Iris nodded, encouraging him. “I think I can’t stop thinking about him, even though part of me is terrified that it’s a bad idea.”

“So go for it. Just, be careful. I’m not afraid to go down there and give him the shovel talk if I need to.”

Barry could clearly picture Iris staring down the much taller Len. “As much fun as that might be to watch, please don’t,” he said solemnly.

“Party pooper.”

They chatted for a little bit, until Barry really did have to get to work. As he was walking to the museum, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. It was an unfamiliar number, but from the content, could only have been Len. He didn’t actually remember giving the man his number, but the warm feeling he got when he opened the text made him glad he had.

_Was going through some art and this made me think of you_

It was an origami dinosaur, shaded in different colours of green.

 _Cute. But if I were going to get something dinosaur related, I think it would be a tree star,_ Barry wrote back with a smile.

Len didn’t answer for several minutes.

_I knew you were a nerd, I didn’t realise you were a sappy nerd. That was one of Lisa’s favourite movies when she was little_

_Hey, I identified with a character that had lost his parents_

_Well that’s not fair. Now I can’t tease you about it. I’ll keep thinking then. I’ll find the right one eventually_

_Why are you so invested in finding a tattoo that I like?_ Barry asked. He was lucky enough to be able to keep his phone on him during work, but at this rate, he was going to end up spending the whole afternoon texting with Len instead of what he was actually supposed to be doing, setting up for karaoke night at the planetarium.

_My plan is to find the perfect design, one you can’t resist. Then I’ll convince you to let me be your first_

Barry blushed. He was glad there was no one around to see him, he couldn’t imagine trying to explain this to his coworkers. Cisco especially would never let him live it down.

_Tell you what. If you can come up with the perfect design, I’ll let you put it on me. No convincing required_

_I hope you know I’m taking that as a binding agreement_

_I solemnly swear I will keep my word_

_Doesn't that phrase normally end with “I am up to no good?”_

Barry laughed, _And you were calling me a nerd_

_Hah. I admit nothing_

Barry hesitated, then typed _, Iris and I are heading to Saints and Sinners tomorrow. She still wants to talk to people for her story. Maybe we might see you there?_

He put his phone down, trying to pretend he wasn't nervous. It wasn't as if he were asking the guy on a real date. He practically jumped when it buzzed almost immediately.

_It's a plan. I might even give you your coat back this time_

Barry grinned, writing, _Great! I really should get to work now. But if you find something you absolutely have to share, I'll have my phone on me_

The rest of the day passed rather uneventfully. Setting up for the karaoke nights they held a few times a year was a lot of work, but by now they had figured out the best way of staging things so that when the museum proper closed for the night, they could just pull out the party supplies and be ready to go. It had been Barry’s idea in the first place, after he’d seen other planetariums do dance parties and other events. The hardest part had been programming the ancient projector to display the lyrics along with the usual starry skies.

Because it had been Barry’s idea, he was the one who got to run the whole program. Which usually meant that even though he knew exactly what needed to be done and when, he would spend the afternoon worrying about whether the equipment was working properly, or if the bartender was ten minutes late, or if he was suddenly going to forget how to sing when he did the first song to get the crowd into it. (He never did, and that was usually the moment when he let his worries go and just enjoyed the party.)

Today though, he was distracted. He kept reaching for his phone to see if Len had sent him any more texts, and then restraining himself before he could pull it from his pocket. He told himself that not only did Len have his own job to be doing, so was unlikely to be spending his time looking for tattoos that Barry might like, but that even if he did, Barry would feel the vibration in his pocket. He turned the ringer on low, just in case.

As the hours passed, it turned out that either Len didn’t have anything to do, or he was very good at multitasking, because he sent Barry, in order, a map of Orion, a diamond shape containing a picture of a lighthouse that looked almost like a woodcut, a bird in flight, a leafless tree with exposed roots, a classic bright red heart with a dagger through it and a ribbon reading “MoM” that Barry was pretty sure was a joke, and a bow and arrow motif that made him think uncomfortably of Oliver. Barry tried to ignore the flutter in his gut with each new image. He felt like a teenager with a crush, which was ridiculous, he should be beyond that, but he couldn’t keep a small smile from playing across his lips.

Contrary to his protestations about not really wanting a tattoo, Barry started thinking what he’d actually like, and sending Len critiques and ideas of his own in response to each suggestion. He decided he definitely wanted something simple, even abstract, with no colour. Something that reflected his interests. Definitely no words. The possibilities ran through his mind, along with the shadowy prospect that actually getting any of them would involve sitting alone with Len, letting the man touch his bare skin, until eventually he was forced to focus on the tasks immediately in front of him. As much as he enjoyed these special events at the museum, tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough for Barry.

 


	4. Stencil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry and Iris visit Saints and Sinners, and things start to heat up.

Iris and Barry arrived at Saints and Sinners shortly after the doors opened, despite Barry taking far more time than he cared to admit deciding what to wear, much to Iris’s amusement. He settled on a short sleeved plaid button down over a white v neck, and the dark wash jeans that were half a size too small, but Iris said made his ass look almost illegal. It wasn’t quite the deep red sweater that he knew set off his eyes so well, but a sudden heat wave had made it far too hot to consider wearing anything remotely woolen.

To Iris’s disappointment, Ray was not there when they arrived. She tried a few times to get Mick to talk, but as Barry had predicted, the gruff man gave only grunts and one-word answers, when he responded at all, and she was forced to give up. She scanned the sparse early evening crowd, looking for her next target.

“Why don’t we have a drink, relax a bit. People are more likely to talk if they don’t feel like they’re being interrogated,” Barry suggested.

“Oh, alright. I just feel like I’m so close. I don’t want to miss out on that last piece of the puzzle that will pull it all together.”

‘Uh-huh,” Barry checked his phone for probably the dozenth time since they had arrived. Nothing. Len had said earlier that his last appointment for the day had showed up late, and it was a marathon session, so it would be a while before he could make it to the bar, but Barry didn’t know what that really meant in terms of when he might actually appear.

“Stop checking. He said he was coming, didn’t he?” Iris said, nudging him with her knee.

“Yeah, I just—”

She cut him off. “You’re lucky you’re adorable when you have a crush, or you’d be incredibly annoying,” She teased, and Barry ducked his head, cheeks burning. “He’ll come, now what was that you were saying? Have a drink and relax?”

Barry ran a hand over the back of his neck. She was right. Len would get there when he could, and in the meantime, they did have another purpose. He flagged down Mick to order them drinks - not bourbon - and turned to face the room. He recognised a few people from the last time he had been there, mostly the ones who looked like they were there often enough that they were practically furniture.

As people filtered in, Iris did find a few who were willing to answer some of her questions about life in the neighbourhood, but nothing that even hinted at the Santinis or their plans. She was pleased with even that small bit of progress, but Len still hadn’t showed up, and Barry was starting to feel at odds with himself.

He was just returning from the washroom when he spotted the group of men at a table by the wall. It was hard to tell from this angle, they were partially blocked by some sound equipment, but he was pretty sure one of them was the tall man who had threatened Len.

A chill ran up his spine. Surely they wouldn’t do anything here, assuming they even recognised him. But then Len had insisted on walking him to the bus, and he was pretty sure that had been genuine caution and not just a thinly veiled excuse to stay with Barry a little longer. The problem was, he had no frame of reference to know what to do in this situation.

He walked as quickly as he dared to the high table where Iris was sitting and sat so his back was to the men.

“Don’t look now, but there’s three guys over by the sound booth,” he half-whispered, leaning close so no one else could hear. “I’m pretty sure they work for Santini. One of them is the guy who gave Len the lighter.”

Iris leaned over to peek behind Barry.

“Iris!” he hissed “I said don’t look!”

“How am I supposed to know who to hide from, if I don’t know what they look like?” she shot back. “What should we do?”

Barry was already pulling out his phone to text Len. He wasn’t sure on the best course of action either, but he wasn’t going to let the man walk into possible danger with no warning.

 _Santinis at the bar,_ he wrote, _three, one tall, one bald, one with a terrible handlebar moustache_

Len answered almost right away. _Mick just told me. Can you get out without them noticing you?_

Barry looked in the mirror behind the bar with a frown. The men were off to the side, but still between them and the door. He and Iris might be able to pass unnoticed, but not if they were at all paying attention to who was coming and going.

_I don’t think so. How worried should I be?_

Len’s response of _Hang on_ did nothing to actually answer his question, and definitely nothing to quell Barry’s rising fears. He looked around nervously, although what for he couldn’t say. He didn’t notice his leg was bouncing until Iris put a hand on his thigh.

“Relax, Barr,” she soothed, “We’ll figure this out. What did Len say?”

“Just to wait. I think he might be planning something.”

Before either them could speculate what that might be, a pretty server with dark hair and a chunky gold necklace with a large red stone appeared at Barry’s elbow.

“Are you Barry?” she asked, and he nodded. “Boss wants to see you.”

She walked away without waiting for a response, so Barry and Iris hurried to follow. She led them away from the men and the front door, to a swing door beside the bar.

“He’s back there,” she said shortly, then turned to grab a tray of drinks.

Barry pushed through the door to find a short hallway leading to the kitchen, with what looked like an office off to one side. Mick waved them into the kitchen.

“Snart said you needed to make an exit, c’mon.” He took them through the kitchen, past a store room to the back exit.  It led to an uncomfortably dark alley.

“Next building over is Snart’s. He’s got his back door open, and he’s waiting for you,” Mick said, pointing out where light was spilling into the alley.

“Thanks,” Barry said, and took Iris’s hand as they stepped into the humid alley. Mick just grunted, but he stayed standing in the doorway until they waved back at him from the entrance to Len’s shop.

The air inside the shop was even warmer than that outside, and they had to step around a large box fan that was blowing out the open door. Len appeared from around a corner, drying his hands on a towel.

“Glad you could drop in,” he said with a wry smile, “Sorry about the heat. Aircon went out yesterday and the repair guy can’t make it until Monday.”

Despite the circumstances, Barry couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the other man. In concession to the heat, he had left off his usual sweaters in favour of a form fitting black tee, which clung in all the right places.

“So, what now?” he asked.

“Now I think I owe you a drink, since you were so kind to send me that warning.”

Len took them into the salon, where Lisa was mixing herself a drink at a small bar in the corner.

“What’ll you two have?” she asked over her shoulder.

“I don’t care as long as it’s tall and strong with lots of ice,” Iris answered, and Barry signalled that he’d like the same.

“Two rhubarb vodka iced teas, coming up,” Lisa said, and set about mixing the drinks.

Len was making himself comfortable in the chair at the washing station, where he already had a half-finished drink. Iris claimed one of the salon chairs, and Barry leaned against a convenient patch of wall, leaving the last chair for Lisa. As comfortable as she seemed to be in her towering heels, making her stand seemed like it would be cruel.

Iris fixed Len with a pointed stare. “How worried should we be?”

Len considered her for a moment. “That depends. All they know right now is Barry’s face, and that he spent some time with me. Maybe yours too, Miss West, if Rico was feeling particularly observant this week, but I wouldn’t count on that. You could probably walk out that door right now and never worry about the Santini family again.”

Barry shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t like how final that sounded.

“But,” Len continued, “If you insist on writing the story Barry tells me you’re writing, you will definitely be on their radar, and probably nothing will stop them from coming after you.”

Iris’s jaw hardened. “I won’t back down just because the bad guys don’t like what I have to say,” she said, “if anything, that just makes it more important that the people of Central City get to hear this story.”

“Nevertheless, she persisted,” Len murmured, tipping his glass to Iris.

“We’ll just have to make sure it’s one hell of a piece then, won’t we?” Lisa added brightly as she handed out the drinks. Barry took one sip of his and, finding it a bit sweet, set it on top of the fire extinguisher case he was leaning against. “If you’re going to hit them where it hurts, might as well make sure it really hurts.”

Len sighed, “I’ve already said everything I’m going to. And it was _off_ the record, right Miss West?”

“Of course,” Iris answered, slightly insulted, “what you told Barry was helpful, and I wouldn’t write anything that might endanger my sources.”

A sudden horrible thought gripped Barry. ‘Does it matter though?” he asked, looking from Len to Iris, “They already know we know each other, it won’t be hard to make the connection to Iris. Even if you don’t use anything from Len, they’re probably going to assume he’s your source, and come after him anyway.”

Len nodded thoughtfully, “I wouldn’t put it past them. Vito already wants me out of the way. This would be a convenient excuse to try for something more permanent than just scaring me out of my shop.”

“We can’t let them get away with that!” Barry knew he was talking too loud, but he couldn’t bear the thought of Len getting hurt.  

Len raised an eyebrow. “I said they’d try. I never said they’d succeed. I know how to handle Vito Santini. You two on the other hand—”

“Will just have to stay close to us, won’t they?” interrupted Lisa. “Iris, do you have an outline of what you have so far?” Iris nodded, and Lisa smiled conspiratorially, “Then why don’t you email it to me, and I’ll see if I or my brother can add anything.”

“Thanks” Iris said, as the same time as Len’s “Keep me out of it.”

Lisa blew a kiss at Len. “Now that’s settled, what’s say we enjoy ourselves. It is Friday night after all. How’s everyone’s drinks?”

“Great,” Barry answered, and guiltily took a long sip of his before putting it back on top of the case. It was still too sweet, but the cool liquid was pleasant in the overly warm room.

Lisa smiled at him. “Excellent. Now what are your intentions with my brother?”

Barry nearly choked, while Len half shouted, “Lise!”

“What? It’s a perfectly valid question,” she said, looking like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. “I can’t remember the last time you saw the same person three times in the same week, Lenny, and he obviously cares about your wellbeing. I’m just trying to look out for you the way you look out for me.”

Barry felt like he was about ten different shades of red. He had no idea how to answer the question. He didn’t know himself what he wanted from him and Len, if there even was a him and Len! And the few ideas he did have were certainly not anything he wanted to share with the man’s sister. He looked to Iris for help, but she was just smiling at him over the rim of her glass.

“Don’t answer that, Barry.” Len cut in, “What you and I do is none of my sister’s business.”

Barry’s stomach flipped pleasantly. So there was a him and Len. Or at least the possibility of one. A small sound caught his attention, and he turned to look toward the hallway that led out into the alley.

There was a crash of breaking glass, and a sudden flare of orange light from the hall.

Without thinking, Barry grabbed the extinguisher beside him and raced out of the salon. In the hall, a puddle of flame spread across the floor. Flames licked up the walls, and a shelving unit full of shop supplies was already catching. Barry immediately aimed the nozzle of the extinguisher at the base of the closest flames and started walking down the short hall, smothering the fire as he went.

In no time at all, he reached the fan at the doorway, and turned to make sure he hadn’t missed any hot spots. Through the smoke and the fog from the fire extinguisher, Len raced up to Barry and grabbed him by the shoulders.

“What were you thinking! They could have been waiting for you!”

Barry’s pulse was racing. The thought hadn’t even occurred to him. “Fire. Had to put it out. I didn’t think…” he looked at the wreckage around them, the fact that he had literally just run into a burning room catching up to him. He looked at Len, a lost expression on his face, “I couldn’t let your shop burn.”

Len raised a hand to the side of Barry’s face. His long fingers were warm, and Barry nuzzled into the touch. “Thank you.” he said softly, “but next time maybe run away from the fire? I’d hate for all that lovely virgin skin to get burned before I get my hands on it.”

Barry smiled. His heart was still beating a mile a minute, but now it was for an entirely different reason. “I promise,” he said.

“Barry?” Iris called from the end of the hallway. She was standing just outside the damaged area, peering through the slowly clearing smoke. ‘Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Barry answered, “We’re lucky this fan was here. It sucked a lot of the flames right out the door. If it had been blowing in..” he trailed off, letting the possibilities hang in the air.

“You’re lucky they were amateurs,” came a deep voice from behind them. Mick was standing in the open doorway. “I was out for a smoke, saw the flames. Didn’t see who threw it, but they don’t know fire. Woulda been better to toss it through the front window. Better coverage, harder to contain.”

“Can we not discuss how to best destroy my place of business?” Len asked, his voice hard. ‘I know who did it, or more importantly, who sent them. Incompetent as this attempt may have been, I think it’s best we be elsewhere, just in case they decide to try again.”

Lisa and Iris picked their way through the broken glass and out into the alley. Iris caught Barry in a tight hug. “You’re amazing, Barry,” she said into his neck. He squeezed her back.

“Why don’t we head home?” he suggested. “I think that’s probably enough excitement for one night.”

“I’ll walk you to the bus,” Len offered, and Barry nodded gratefully.

They said short goodbyes to Lisa and Mick, and Len led them to the bus stop, taking a slightly circuitous route that kept them off the main streets. They didn’t speak. Len’s jaw was set, his eyes narrowed. Barry slung an arm over Iris’s shoulders, as much for his comfort as hers.

They didn’t have to wait long before the bus appeared. Just as they were about to board, Len stopped them with hand on Iris’s arm.

“Send me that file,” he said, and a shiver ran up Barry’s spine at the ice in his voice.

 


	5. Ink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iris writes her story, and Len and Barry finally get some alone time without imminent threats of bodily harm!

They agreed to meet at Jitters after the weekend, so Len could help Iris finish off her story. Lisa had decided to go spend some time in Coast City with a few girlfriends until things blew over - at Len’s urging, Barry was sure, so it would just be the three of them.

Barry was, for once, the first to arrive. Iris smiled at him as she slid into the seat next to him. “I know you’re not this eager for a research meeting; you really should just ask him out.”

Barry ducked his head. “Maybe I am,” he said with a smile, “this is riveting, seeing real journalism happen before my very eyes.”

Iris punched his shoulder playfully, then turned to greet Len as he joined them. Barry felt a broad grin sneak its way across his face at the sight of the other man. The heat hadn’t abated, so once again Len was wearing a soft looking tee, this time in charcoal with some kind of band logo on the front. Barry had to remind himself not to stare at the extra skin revealed by the shorter sleeves, the way Len’s muscles played under the ink decorating his arms as he moved.

Iris nudged him, “Barry! Are you with us?”

Barry looked at her guiltily, “What? Oh, yeah.” He tried to pretend he didn’t see the smirk on Len’s face, or the way he stretched nonchalantly, showing off even more.

“Len was just saying he can help connect Councillor Phirman to the Santinis. That’s the last big piece I need to tie all of this together.” Barry looked to Len, questioningly.

“Guy had a string of bad luck a few years ago. Couple of his businesses burned down, then his house. There was an investigation, but they couldn’t prove anything. He got a nice hefty insurance payout every time.”

“Arson?” Iris asked, “But how does that connect to the Santinis?”

Len leaned back in his chair. “It does if Vito is the one who gave Phirman the name of the best firestarter in the Gem Cities. And warehouse space to store some of the items he supposedly lost in the fire.”

Iris’s eyes were shining. “So, all I need to do is show that he didn’t lose everything in the last fire, and let people draw their own conclusions from there.”

“The man likes to show off. I’d look at photos from his latest fundraiser and compare them to the list of priceless artworks he says he lost.”

“Perfect!” Iris was practically rubbing her hands together with glee. “There’s no way they can move forward with the Cyberland project now. The city will have to do a full review.”

“Go team!” Barry said. Her enthusiasm was infectious, but he sobered suddenly and turned to Len. “But what about you? Even if there’s an investigation, it’ll take a while, and there’s no guarantee it will stop them from continuing with their plans, or from hurting you.”

Len clasped his hands in front of him, “I had some thoughts about that. I said I had some inside knowledge I was keeping under wraps, but after what happened on Friday, all bets are off.” He paused briefly, “Iris, how long can you hold off before you publish your story?”

“I can maybe delay it for a week. After that it’ll be too late to stop Cyberland, and all those people from getting evicted.”

Len nodded, “That should be enough time. I think I can get Vito taken down, I just need to contact a cop I used to know, and I’m not sure he’ll listen to me right away.”

Barry and Iris looked at one another and burst out laughing. Len looked at them, confusion on his face.

“If you need a cop, we can help with that,” Barry said, when he could catch his breath. “Our dad, well, Iris’s dad, is a detective, and she’s dating his partner.”

Len seemed taken aback, “Your dad is a cop,” he said flatly.

Barry frowned at him, “Yeah, Joe practically raised me. That isn’t a problem, is it?”

Len waved a hand, and with it seemed to dismiss whatever misgivings he might have had. “No, I was just surprised. Haven’t had the best of experiences with the boys in blue, and from what you’ve told me, Joe seems like a pretty stand-up guy.”

“He’s the best,” Barry said, and Iris nodded. “I’m sure he’d jump at the chance to take down one of the biggest crime bosses in the city.”

Len outlined his plan. Vito Santini ran an underground boxing ring. It was a bit old school, but it was one of his personal projects, so he was always there in person. The only reason he hadn’t been shut down years before was that it moved around too much. Len, however, knew where it would be next.

“And the best part is,” he said, tracing outlines on the tabletop with his fingers, “someone in the operation convinced Vito that he could make more money if he put the whole thing online, so he’s been streaming it on the dark web and taking bets from all over. That makes it a federal crime. They’ll have him locked up so tight while they dig into all his businesses sorting out jurisdiction, he might forget his own name.”

Len’s smile was wicked, predatory even, and Barry couldn’t help the thrill that ran down his spine and pooled low in his gut. Whatever misgivings he might have had about this calculating, less than legal side of Len, there was a part of him that found it completely irresistible.

Iris was already pulling out her phone, “I’ll call them right now; see if they can join us. If we plan this right, I can go to print right after the sting. I can get Marco to do a write-up on the boxing ring to supplement the Cyberland piece. It’ll be the perfect scoop.”

Barry glanced at the clock, “Shit, lunch break is over.” He pushed away from the table in a rush, “Gotta get back to work, let me know how it goes?” he asked, but he was out the door and running down the street before even really hearing their answer. When he arrived back at the museum, he found he had a text from Len.

_You keep running off like that, I’m going to start thinking you don’t like me_

Barry smiled, and before he could talk himself out of it, wrote back, _You definitely don’t have anything to worry about there_

_Oh?_

_Stop fishing for compliments. I like you, ok_

_With a resounding statement like that, who am I to disagree_

Barry laughed, but didn’t answer.

_What’s say we continue this over dinner, just the two of us when all this is over_

Barry could feel his heart skip a beat. That sounded like an actual date. Which might lead to, well, post-date things. _Only if you promise there won’t be any unexpected fires_

_I can’t promise things won’t heat up, but I think we can keep away from the arson for one night_

Barry blushed at the possibilities that conjured and had to put his phone away before the conversation turned truly inappropriate. If he let it go any further, he absolutely would not be in a fit state to work. The warm feeling in his belly stayed with him the rest of the day, but he resolutely kept himself from checking if he had any more messages.

***

The night of the sting, Barry found himself unable to focus on anything. He tried reading, and watching Netflix, but he kept ending up staring at his phone, waiting to hear if it had been a success. If something went wrong, if Vito wasn’t there, or if he escaped, the story would run anyway and they’d all be in danger.

He thought about texting Len. When they weren’t discussing the tattoo ideas Len was still sending him, their conversations had gotten increasingly risqué, although never quite crossing the line to truly crude. It was late though, and while Barry wasn’t working the next day, he knew Len would be. Instead, he flicked on the tv and scrolled until he found a shark documentary that looked like it might be interesting enough to keep his attention for a while. He left his phone within easy reach.

When the call came in, it was Iris. “They got him,” she said simply, “and two of his brothers, plus enough evidence to keep them all locked up for a long time.”

As soon as he hung up, Barry had to text Len, _It worked, Santini’s on his way to Iron Heights_

To his surprise, Len answered immediately

_Good. I hope he never sees the light of day again_

_From the sounds of it, they got enough on him to make that a definite possibility_

_Shall we celebrate?_

Barry looked at the clock, _It’s after one, isn’t it a bit late for celebrating?_

_Not the way I do it. Fine, why don’t you bring me a copy of the paper in the morning so I can read Iris’s masterpiece. I have something I want to show you anyway_

Barry’s curiosity was piqued, _Something to show me? What is it?_

_Well that would be telling, wouldn’t it. I’ll be at the shop for 8_

Barry groaned. He was so not a morning person, but whatever it was, he knew he’d be there bright and early to find out. It seemed as if, now that the danger had passed, all his muddled desires and feelings toward Len had multiplied tenfold. The draw to see him again, without any threat of imminent harm, was irresistible. This was going to require a lot of coffee.

***

8:15 the next morning found Barry knocking on the door of Rogues Gallery, balancing two coffees (one with three extra shots of espresso) and a bag of still warm chocolate croissants in one hand and holding a copy of the Central City Citizen in the other. The words ‘Santini Sting Nets Success’ were emblazoned across the front page.

He didn’t have to wait long before Len came and opened the door with a smile, taking the bag and one of the coffees as he ushered Barry in. The part of Barry that wanted to grumble about being up and about this early in the morning was quickly quashed by the way Len’s eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. Barry tossed the paper down on the reception desk and took a big gulp of his coffee. It was too hot still, but he needed the caffeine more than he needed to be able to feel the end of his tongue.

“So, what’s the big secret that I had to get out of bed at this ungodly hour to see?” Barry asked.

“I never said you had to be here this early. I said I would be.”

Barry opened his mouth to object, then closed it, realising it was true. Did it make him seem to eager, coming so early? His worry must have been all over his face, because Len passed him a croissant and said, “I’m glad you did, Scarlet. Gives me a chance to show you this before I have to open the shop.”

Barry took the pastry, tearing off a piece and tossing the buttery treat into his mouth as he followed Len back into the studio part of his shop. It was a bit smaller than the salon, with just a padded massage table along one wall and what look like a black dentist’s chair on another. There was a small sink in one corner, and s black lacquered cabinet and a silver wheeled cart were the only other furniture in the room. Len pulled a spiral bound sketchbook from where he had left it on the chair and flipped to a page about a third of the way in.

“Since nothing I could find worked for you, I thought I’d design something instead. I think it might just be perfect.” He turned the sketchbook to Barry, holding on just long enough to let their fingers brush as he passed it over.

Barry’s stomach did a flip at the contact, and he had to give himself a mental shake before he really saw the image in front of him. It was an abstract series of symbols and images, connected by straight lines to make one cohesive whole almost like a mobile. At the top a pi symbol seemed to dangle from a Fibonacci spiral. There was a diamond inside an hourglass made up of two overlapping equilateral triangles, and that connected to a circle containing a circular strand of DNA, and inside that, a Bohr diagram of an atom. To either side of the circular motif were a planet and a snowflake, again dangling from the main “structure.” The whole thing terminated in a narrow lightning bolt.

Barry traced the design with a finger. It was clean and simple, and each element seemed to speak to him personally. He paused over the Bohr diagram, counting electrons and comparing it to the periodic table. When he thought he had it, he looked up at Len with a soft laugh, “Barium.”

 “I couldn’t resist,” Len drawled, “but if there’s another element you prefer—”

“No, it’s,” Barry looked back down at the drawing. “It’s perfect.” His finger lingered over the lightning bolt. He could think of a few interpretations for it: Tesla and the science of electricity, to go with the overall theme–”

“Because you were so fast, like lightning, the night of the fire,” Len said, much closer than before.

Barry hadn’t noticed the other man move around to stand beside him, he was so engrossed in the drawing. He pointed to the snowflake, “What’s that one for?”

Len chuckled low in his chest, then leaned in and almost whispered in Barry’s ear, “I like to sign my best work. That way no one can steal it.”

His words seemed to roll right through Barry. He could suddenly sense how close Len really was, how warm the bulk of him was in the cool air of the shop. Or maybe that was just the electricity practically cracking in the scant space between them. The idea of having a mark, Len’s mark, on his skin permanently was intoxicating.

“Where?” Barry managed to eke out, once he had found his tongue again.

Len lifted Barry’s left arm and turned it so his palm was facing up. “Right here,” he said tracing his fingers up the inside of Barry’s arm to his elbow.

Barry shivered at the contact. He felt frozen in place, and unable to tear his eyes away from where Len was still holding his hand, still touching the sensitive skin at the inside of his elbow. He swallowed thickly.

“Yes,” his own voice sounded foreign in his ears.

“Yes?” Len asked, not letting go, but ducking his head so Barry was forced to look him in the eyes.

“Yes, I want it. I want the tattoo,” Barry breathed.

“Are you sure? Once I start, I'm not going to stop.”

Barry nodded, “I know what I want,” he said, more firmly before.

“Well then,” Len said, and tugged on Barry's arm, pulling him so their bodies were flush chest to knee, just for a moment. “Let's get started.” He snatched the sketchbook out of Barry's hand and stepped completely away with a twirl. Barry swayed into the space where he had been. “Unless you'd rather do it another time?”

It took Barry a moment to realise he was being asked a question. The sudden contact and then loss had made his brain fritz out. He shook his head.

“No, let's do it now.”

Len smiled, and Barry was suddenly reminded of a shark. That probably should have scared him more than it did, but instead a thrill ran through him.

“I'm glad. Why don't you take a seat and finish your breakfast? It's not a good idea to get inked on an empty stomach. I'll just be a few minutes setting up.”

Len walked out of the room, and Barry stood, staring at the doorway after him, his mouth slightly open. What had he gotten himself into? A small voice inside him that sounded suspiciously like Joe told him he could still just walk away now, but he knew that if he did, he would always wonder what might have been. Whatever the future held, now that he had decided to stay, both thrilled and terrified him.

Len was gorgeous, there was no doubt about that, and his drawling tone always seemed to carry deeper meaning than the brilliant, teasing words he spoke. He carried some darkness with him, and violence, in his past especially. But there was good there too, Barry was sure of it. He doubted anyone would ever accuse Len of being a nice man, but that was half of the attraction.

Len came back into the room and started setting up his equipment, covering the arm of the chair with cling film and laying out things Barry only vaguely recognised on the wheeled cart. Barry realised he still hadn’t followed Len’s instructions, and stuffed the last of his pastry in his mouth before washing it down with more coffee. It was fascinating watching Len work. In no time at all, it seemed he had everything prepared and placed just so and was gesturing for Barry to take a seat as he pulled off a pair of black latex gloves and turned to wash his hands.

Barry sat and held out his arm, palm up. He had questions about everything, the equipment, the procedure, what it would feel like, all on the tip of his tongue, but he kept quiet and watched intently as Len, now freshly gloved and seated on the stool, wiped his arm down with some sort of solution on a paper towel. Len scooched closer so he could line the stencil up, and Barry held his breath. It was just a piece of paper, there was no way it could hurt him, but Barry had to suppress a flinch as it touched his skin and Len smoothed it out over his arm. He was glad Len was too engrossed in what he was doing to look up and see the way he blushed at his reaction.

Len peeled the paper back and looked at the bluish marks now adorning Barry’s arm from several angles before nodding to himself and turning to Barry to ask, “What do you think?”

Barry held up his arm and twisted it this way and that, watching how the design moved with his skin. It was only the stencil, but it already seemed so permanent, like it belonged there and had just been waiting for Len to bring it out.

“It’s perfect,” he said, looking at Len in wonder.

Len smiled back at him. “I never do anything less,” he said, and removed his gloves with a snap before cleaning his hands and pulling on another pair. Next, he popped open a package and pulled out a set of needles, which slid into the end of the somewhat menacing looking tattoo gun. He adjusted a few things and turned it on with a buzz. It was loud in the otherwise quiet room.

Len took Barry by the wrist and positioned his arm just the way he wanted it. He paused for a moment with the needles poised just above Barry's skin and looked at him with one eyebrow raised, as if to give him one last chance to back out. Barry swallowed and nodded.

It hurt both more and less than Barry expected. It was like being scratched by something very sharp, and each line seemed to start off merely irritating and slowly build to something like being cut with a hot knife until it was almost unbearable and then Len would invariably lift the needles away to wipe it down and start a new line somewhere else.

It was fascinating to watch his concentration as he worked each portion of the tattoo with mathematical precision. Barry could just see the tip of his tongue peeking out between his plush lips. His long hands, encased in black latex, held Barry firmly in place. Even if he had been inclined to move away from the pain, he wasn't sure he could have without some effort.

Barry was not a person who sat still for long periods easily, but once a few minutes had passed and he got used to the rhythm of the drag and lift of the tattoo gun, a warmth and calm crept over him. It was like Len was pinning his whole body with just the touch of his hands on Barry's forearm. Even when he hit a particularly sensitive patch of skin, Barry did no more than clench his teeth and breathe through his nose until it was over.

It was almost freeing, having nothing to do but sit still and let Len work. He let his mind wander. He hadn't told anyone he was doing this, not that he had really had time: until this morning it had only been a vague agreement. Iris probably had some idea, she always seemed to know what Barry was going to do before even he did. But Cisco? Joe? What would they say?

“It's a bit too late for second thoughts,” Len said, cutting into Barry's musings.

Barry half shook his head in denial. “I don't know, I could always walk out now, call it a work in progress.”

Len laughed, “Do that and I'll never touch you again.”

Barry shook his head more firmly this time, “You're not getting rid of me that easily.”

“I know. I seem to recall telling you politely to be on your way when we first met, but you just keep showing up.”

Barry bit back a flippant retort. Did Len really think that? Was he projecting his desires onto the other man?

Something of his thoughts must've shown on his face, because Len tugged gently on his arm and practically purred, “But I suppose it isn't all bad; now I have you at my mercy I can do whatever I want.”

A small shiver ran through Barry at the sound of that, and the gentle warmth he had been feeling became a distinct heat spreading from the base of his spine. He became even more aware of the way Len was holding him still, of how close the man was to his side while he worked, now for entirely different reasons.

Barry continued to watch while the tattoo took shape under Len's careful fingers. It hardly hurt at all now, almost as if it were happening to someone else, but at the same time he was hyper aware of each point of contact. It was an incredible feeling, and it was over all too soon.

When Len wiped the last of the excess ink away and pressed an ointment-laden paper towel to Barry's skin it was like a jolt of cool water.

“Is that it?” he asked.

“Just have to wrap it, but yes. You're marked for life now.”

Barry remembered what Len had said about signing his work and fought to keep yet another blush from rising. His heart was racing and he felt like he had just been running, even though all he had done was sit in a chair.

“I suppose I should come back though. So you can check how it's healing?” he said thickly.

Len wiped gently at the delicate skin near the inside of his elbow. “Yes, I'll want to keep a close eye on this one.”

Barry tugged experimentally on his arm, but Len held firm. He wasn't even pretending to do anything other than hold Barry by the wrist, his gaze intense as he looked Barry straight in the eyes.

“There is just one more thing,” he said, and licked his lips. Barry copied the gesture. Len continued, “We haven't discussed how I'm going to be paid for this little piece of art.”

“Paid?” Barry murmured, then mentally kicked himself. Of course this was going to cost money. What kind of artist worked for free? He just hoped it wouldn't be too much, he wasn't exactly flush with cash.

Len chuckled. “Don't worry, I think saving my place of business from incompetent arsonists and putting my biggest enemy behind bars is a fair trade for a bit of work. I just want one more small thing.”

Barry sagged with relief. “What do you want then?” he asked.

“This.”

Before Barry could react, Len leaned in and kissed him. It was almost chaste, just a simple press of lips, but when Len started to pull away Barry followed him, curling his free hand around Len's neck to pull him closer still and deepen the kiss. Len smiled against Barry's mouth and allowed it, meeting Barry with equal enthusiasm.

Any pain Barry had been feeling melted away at the heat of the kiss. There was no awkward first-kiss fumbling, no misjudged angles or smashed noses. It was as if they instinctively knew each others’ desires. Barry sucked Len's lower lip into his mouth and flicked at the piercing there with the tip of his tongue, eliciting a small noise of pleasure from Len for his trouble. He tugged at it with his teeth and got a full-out moan. Len sank his hand into Barry's hair and pulled his head back so he could trace a line of not-quite-gentle nibbles along Barry's jaw. Barry leaned back to give him better access, and Len followed eagerly, nearly climbing onto the chair as he went.

Barry barely heard the tinkle of the bells, but he couldn't ignore the way Len's head suddenly snapped up.

“Shit, I thought I locked that,” he said in a low voice that spoke of violence to whomever dared interrupt them. He looked down at Barry. “Don't move.” He stood and straightened his shirt, and Barry could practically see the mask coming down over his face before he turned and went to greet the interloper.

Barry flopped back into the chair. Kissing Len was everything he had imagined it might be and more. He never wanted to stop. He could still feel the ghost of Len’s hands on his skin, the sharp bite of his teeth. He wished whoever was at the door would hurry up and go away so Len could come back and they could continue whatever it was this was leading to.

As the minutes passed and Len didn’t return, Barry began to come back to reality. His arm throbbed. As much as he wanted to keep making out with Len, and maybe more, this wasn’t really the best time or place. He decided that when Len did return, he would suggest they meet up later, somewhere they could be alone and uninterrupted.

He was inspecting his tattoo when Len returned, bringing a dark cloud with him. He stepped close to Barry and ran the back of his hand down his face.

“A client came early,” he said softly, “I’d tell him to go fuck himself, but he’s a regular, and he tips well.”

Barry nodded, “Can I see you later?”

Len leaned in a pressed a kiss to his lips. “I insist on it. Now let’s get you wrapped up before you distract me any further.”

Barry smiled at the idea of him being the distracting one. He watched as Len covered his tattoo with ointment and something that looked almost like a burn dressing, and he tried to listen carefully while Len told him to leave the bandage on for a few hours, then unwrap and wash it, and what sorts of moisturizers to use, but he was glad when Len handed him a card with the aftercare instructions on it.

Too soon, it was done, and Len was offering Barry a hand out of the chair. Barry took it, wobbled unexpectedly, and caught himself on Len’s chest. He touched their foreheads together, reluctant to break the contact. Len ran his hands over Barry’s biceps.

“Tonight,” he breathed, and there was promise heavy in his words.

Barry nodded and stepped away. “Tonight,” he repeated before heading out of the shop.

 

 


	6. Aftercare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The smut we've all been waiting for.
> 
> Seriously, I'm not sure how it took 17k words to get to this point, when this was supposed to be a bit of fluff leading into porn.

Somehow meeting Len for some alone time turned into celebrating Iris’s article and the arrest of the Santinis at Saints and Sinners with the whole crew. It was fun getting the chance to just relax for the night. There was a band playing some kind of metal that featured slide whistles and kazoos, and the whole bar seemed to be just letting loose. 

Iris was radiant, and Eddie stopped by to give her a toast before he had to get back to work. Mick was gruff as ever, but Barry noticed the way he made sure no one ever wanted for a drink, and the way his eyes softened at the corners when he looked at Ray, who for his part wanted to know everything about Iris and Barry. It turned out the man loved science, and used molecular gastronomy in his cooking whenever he got the chance, and Barry was sure he would talk for hours on the subject, given the opportunity. 

When he first arrived, Barry initially tried to keep some separation between himself and Len. He wasn’t sure what they were yet, and didn’t want to deal with the inevitable ribbing that would come if they got within range of the temptation to touch. It wasn’t long though, before they ended up sitting next to one another. Barry spread his legs so his knee pressed against Len’s. Then Len stretched his arm out over the back of Barry’s chair and began idly stroking the space between his shoulder blades. 

The contact was both grounding and maddening. It was as if the entire world had been reduced to  the small points where they touched, and it was not nearly enough. Barry kept losing track of the conversation as he leaned closer and closer to Len, sometimes tilting his head to encourage the man to play with the hair at the back of his neck. Then one or the other of them would realise what they were doing and pull back for a bit, but still they couldn’t resist the small touches and sidelong glances. 

At some point Barry’s sleeve pulled up, and Iris caught a glimpse of his tattoo, so he ended up showing it off to the whole group, to a chorus of appreciative noises. Mick brought another round to celebrate Len’s art and Barry’s initiation into the world of the tattooed folk.

Someone said, “Welcome to the dark side,” as they toasted, and Barry turned to find Lisa had joined them.  She smiled broadly at him, “I knew you and Lenny would be good together.” 

Barry glanced at Len, who was smirking like the cat who ate the canary. “Nice to see you too, sis,” he said. “How was Coast City?”

“It was fine,” she replied, and gave a little twirl, “Got a great tan. Are you two planning on getting a room any time soon, or what? Because I am going to need several large drinks if I have to watch you all night.” 

Iris giggled and Barry looked at her guiltily, then at Mick, who had grunted and tipped his beer to Lisa. Had they been that obvious? Iris put a hand on his arm. 

“You’re practically sitting in his lap, Barr,” she said. 

Barry ducked his head and looked at Len through his lashes. Len’s eyes had taken on a predatory gleam.

“Well, I’d never let it be said that I wouldn’t do anything for my dear sister,” he drawled as he stood and held out a hand to Barry. Barry felt like his face was on fire, but he took Len’s hand anyway and let himself be pulled away from the table. They left to the the sound of hoots and hollered suggestions that were thankfully lost in the din of the music as soon as they were more than a few feet away. 

When they reached the doors and stepped out into the cool night air it was like being freed from a tension Barry didn’t know he had been holding. He followed Len a few feet down the sidewalk before realising simultaneously that they were still holding hands and that didn’t care. He squeezed Len’s hand, and Len turned and caught him in an embrace, crowding him against the brick wall of the building. 

Barry surged forward at his touch and caught his lips in a searing kiss. Len pinned him against the wall with the weight of his body and slid a thigh between Barry’s legs, drawing a moan from him. When they broke to gasp for air, Len rested his head against Barry’s. His hand was on Barry’s shoulder, his thumb brushing over his pulse point. 

“After that exit, you had better be coming to my place, or we are never going to live this down,” he said, “Unless you’d rather go to yours?”

Barry smiled and gave him a quick kiss. “That depends,” he said with another kiss, “On which is closer.”

“I’m just down the street,” Len growled. 

“Then what are we waiting for?” 

Len grinned and tugged Barry away from the wall and down the street. They stopped twice more before they reached Len’s building. It was the apartment block Barry and Iris had passed on their first visit to the neighbourhood, what seemed like ages ago. Len patted the broken-eared lion fondly as if ruffling it’s mane as they passed it on the way up the steps. Barry felt like he was vibrating with restraint as he kept his hands to himself while Len unlocked first the main door and then the door to his apartment. 

Once inside, Barry felt suddenly awkward. He didn’t normally do this, follow someone home when they hadn’t even been on a proper date. Fortunately he was saved by Len, who gave him a shove to the right, where Barry could now see a bed through an open doorway. He let himself be pushed, only turning when he reached the bed. 

Len was right behind him. He stood close enough they were breathing the same air, and ran his hands slowly up Barry’s arms from fingers to shoulders and across his chest before giving him one last push. Barry landed on the bed with an oof and Len climbed over him, straddling his thighs.

“When I met you,” he said, as he attacked the column of Barry’s neck with sharp bites and soothing kisses, “you seemed so shiny and bright, like a naive little schoolboy who got lost in the dark forest.” 

Barry made a small sound of protest, but it was quickly lost in a moan of pleasure as Len pulled him by the hair to get better access to nibble on the spot just below his ear. 

“Now I know you aren’t that naive,” Len continued, “but you are bright and shiny and good, and I want nothing more than to mess that up.”

“Yes,” groaned Barry, sliding his hands under the hem of Len’s shirt to get at his skin. 

“I’m going to take you apart,” Len said, and pulled back to look Barry in the eye. His eyes were dark, the blue a thin ring around his pupils, and his voice was deadly serious, “Is that what you want, Scarlet? Once I start, I'm not going to stop.”

Barry twisted his hand in Len’s shirt and pulled him back down. “I want this,” he said roughly, before latching on to Len’s lower lip and pulling on the piercing with his teeth. 

Len answered with a moan and began exploring Barry’s body with his hands, seeking skin. He pushed Barry’s shirt up so he could run his fingers over the flat planes of his belly up to his chest. He found a nipple and rolled it between his fingers, making Barry arch into the sensation. Barry’s hands were still tangled in Len’s shirt, and he struggled for a moment before Len helped him by pulling the garment off entirely. Most of his torso was covered in tattoos of various designs, and Barry traced a few of them with his fingers. He wanted to explore every inch of the artwork. Silver gleamed at his nipples, and he gasped softly when Barry brushed his fingers over one of them experimentally. 

Len tugged on Barry’s shirt, and Barry lifted his arms to let Len take it off of him. He flinched as the fabric rubbed over his tattoo. Len brought the arm to his lips and kissed it gently, being careful not to touch any of the lines directly. 

“Have to be careful of that,” he murmured. He glanced around, then sat back on his knees. “Scooch up.” 

Barry hitched himself back, closer to the head of the bed. Len followed, and brought Barry’s arm up above his head, guiding it until his knuckles hit cold metal. He understood immediately and grasped the bar with his hand. Len smiled down at him and let his hands drop to rest on either side of Barry’s chest. He dragged his fingernails over Barry’s skin, drawing a sharp inhale. Barry reached for Len, but with only one hand, Len eluded his grasp, moving down Barry’s body to catch a nipple between his teeth. Barry gasped at the bite that was just this side of painful. 

Len traced a line of sucking open mouthed kissed down Barry’s torso, leaving Barry moaning and arching into the contact. Barry ran his hand over Len’s short-cropped hair, urging him down further. He chuckled and nuzzled at the noticeable bulge in Barry’s jeans. Barry tilted his hips up, begging wordlessly for more. 

Mercifully, Len wasn’t any more patient than Barry. He made quick work of Barry’s jeans, pulling them down and out of the way so he could mouth at thin fabric underneath. He traced the outline of Barry’s cock with his lips, pausing to suck at the tip. Barry tried to push and pull at Len at once. It wasn’t enough, he needed more. Finally Len obliged and pulled his boxers down just enough to free his cock from the fabric. He dipped his head down and placed a single kiss to the tip before sucking it into his mouth. 

Barry’s head fell back as the wet heat of Len’s mouth engulfed him. He had wrapped a hand around the base of Barry’s cock, and was working it up and down in a tight grip while his tongue did indescribable things to the head and the sensitive skin on the underside. Barry jerked a little when he first felt teeth, but Len held him firm, and he soon found that the careful scrape was not a bad thing at all, and was something he would very much like more of. 

Len opened his mouth wider to take more of Barry in. Barry could feel his cock nudging at the back of Len’s throat, and tried to keep his hips still, but he couldn’t resist thrusting up into the delicious heat. Len hummed, and Barry would swear he felt the vibration through his entire body. Len’s hand was still working the base of Barry’s cock, and there was spit dripping down from his mouth and over his fingers, making it slick as he jerked Barry in time to the movements of his mouth. 

Barry’s eyes rolled back and he moaned again as he thrust helplessly with his hips. He could feel Len’s other hand move up the inside of his thigh, brush past his balls and then dip lower to press just behind, and then suddenly it got to be too much.

“Stop,” he gasped, tugging ineffectually at Len, who pulled back anyway. His lips were swollen and shiny. 

“What is it,” he asked, a note of concern in his voice. 

“If you keep that up, this is all going to be over,” Barry said as he caught his breath. 

Len grinned, “And is that a bad thing?” 

“It is if I want you to fuck me,” Barry said in a low voice.

Len’s grin widened, showing too many teeth, “Well in that case,” he said, and surged up to meet Barry in a kiss that was as much teeth as anything else. He ground down against Barry, the stiff fabric of his pants rough against his oversensitive skin. 

Barry gasped, “You are wearing way too much clothing.” 

Len ground down again, drawing another gasp from Barry. 

“I don’t know, I think I’m enjoying this.” 

Barry used his free hand to pinch Len’s nipple and twist just enough to make Len inhale sharply. 

“I want your dick. In my ass. And right now your pants are in the way,” Barry growled, punctuating his words by rolling Len’s piercing between his fingers. 

“You’re feisty when you want something. I’ll have to remember that.” Len reached for his belt, and Barry released him so he could undress. He pulled Barry’s pants and underwear the rest of the way off while he was at it, leaving them both completely naked. While he was up, he reached into a bedside drawer, and dropped a small bottle and a condom packet on the bed before settling to his knees between Barry’s spread thighs. 

He ran his hands gently over Barry’s legs, then up and over his stomach, soothing him before he reached for the bottle. He squeezed some of the thick liquid onto his fingers and rubbed them together, warming it slightly before reaching down between Barry’s legs. Barry still gasped at the cool touch to his entrance. Len circled with his fingers, pressing gently, but not seeking entrance. 

“Please,” Barry said, letting his thighs fall further open. 

Len pushed one finger in, and when it went easily, added a second. The stretch burned a little, but Barry welcomed the invasion. He moved his hips, fucking himself further on Len’s fingers as the man thrust and twisted them, opening him up. Barry whined for more, and Len added a bit more lube, then a third finger. The burn was stronger this time, and Barry’s breath caught in his throat. Len slowed the movements of his fingers, soothing Barry with his other hand. 

As the muscles eased, Len was able to thrust deeper, until he brushed past the the bundle of nerves that made Barry gasp. He chuckled and did it again, curling his fingers to hit it just so. Soon Barry was whining again in the back of his throat, and Len had to hold his hips still with his free hand. He tucked his pinkie finger in, making a pointed shape with all four together, and proceeded to open Barry even further. 

Barry rolled his head back on the pillow and twisted his hand in the sheets. It was too much and not enough. 

“Fuck,” he breathed, “Fuck me, you bastard.”

“As you wish,” Len gave one final deep thrust, and pulled his hand away entirely. 

Barry could feel his asshole clench around the sudden nothingness. He heard the rustle of foil as Len opened the condom and rolled it down over his own cock. Len leaned in, lining his latex-clad cock up and thrust, rubbing it over Barry’s hole but not in. It was maddening. 

Len pulled back, possibly to realign, but Barry wasn’t willing to wait to find out. He grabbed Len with both hands, and with a twist of his hips, flipped the other man over so he was the one on top. Before Len could react, Barry raised himself up on his knees, lined himself up, and sank down on Len’s cock. 

His mouth fell open at the stretch. It felt huge, and different somehow than any other guy he had been with, not that that was a long list. 

Len was gasping too. “Fuck, Barry,” he said, running his hands over Barry’s thighs as if unsure where to touch.

Barry rolled his hips experimentally. Len’s cock felt amazing, like it was touching him in ways nothing ever had before. 

“What?” he asked as he found a rhythm that hit all the right places. 

Len smiled and thrust up sharply, making Barry’s hips stutter in their movements. “You noticed that did you? It’s a piercing I got years ago. I’ve found it to be quite,” he thrust up again, “useful.”

“I can see why,” Barry said. He had figured out how to roll with Len’s thrusts so the piercing moved right over his prostate. At this rate he wasn’t going to last long. He reached for Len and tangled their fingers together while he fucked himself. 

Len let his free hand wander over Barry. He mapped out the muscles in his abdomen as the moved under his skin, traced over his throat and down the length of his arm. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed. 

Barry smiled, “You think so?”

Len grasped Barry’s hip and pulled himself into a sitting position. Barry moaned at the change in angle, and Len captured his open mouth in a kiss. “I do,” he said into Barry’s mouth. 

He wrapped his hand around Barry’s cock. Barry never stopped moving his hips, fucking down onto Len’s cock and up into the tight grip of his hand. It was everything. He could feel the pressure building at the base of his spine, and he closed his eyes, revelling in the feeling until it exploded into white light behind his eyelids. Len shuddered to his own climax soon after, and they held each other through the aftershocks. 

Eventually Barry felt coordinated enough to roll off of Len and flop down on the bed. Len lay back beside him. 

“We should go clean up,” Len said.

“In a minute,” Barry agreed. "I’m still not sure where my legs are”. He waved vaguely in the direction of Len’s cock. “That thing is dangerous.” 

Len laughed, “Oh you have no idea. Next time I’ll show you what it can really do.”

Barry raised himself up on an elbow to look at Len, “So there’s a next time?” 

“And a time after that, until you get sick of me,” Len reached over and brushed his finger beside the snowflake on Barry’s tattoo. “I told you, I mark what’s mine.”

Barry swallowed, but couldn’t find it in himself to disagree. 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love, concrit welcome. <3


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